"ادنا جواب داد: بله. سال های گذشته مثل خواب گذشت...کاش میشد به خوابیدن و خواب دیدن ادامه داد، ولی باید بیدار شد و به درک رسید آه، خب، شاید هم بهتر است که بالاخره بیدار شویم، حتی رنج بکشیم، تا اینکه یک عمر در خیالات و اوهاممان همان احمقی که بودیم باقی بمانیم."


*تو یادداشت مترجم که ابتدای کتاب اومده، داستان فاش میشه. خوندنش رو بذارید برای آخرکار.

Most people who have read and reviewed this controversial piece of feminist literature have relentlessly loathed and antagonized the main character Edna for her infidelity. But this story goes far beyond what the eye can see. You have to feel it with your very soul and put yourself fully in Edna’s shoes. The answer is then quite simple. Edna was quite obviously drowning in depression. Right from the start you can see her as a typical enslaved woman of her time. The worst part about it was that she was “awakened” and recognized that something was amiss in her life.

Below I’ve captured some supporting quotes:

Edna was owned by her husband:

“You are burnt beyond recognition,” he added, looking at his wife as one looks at a valuable piece of personal property which has suffered some damage.”

“She would, through habit, have yielded to his desire; not with any sense of submission or obedience to his compelling wishes, but unthinkingly, as we walk, move, sit, stand, go through the daily treadmill of the life which has been portioned out to us.”

“An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul’s summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood."

She also had kids which was expected of a woman in this time regardless of what a woman truly wanted…:

“In short, Mrs. Pontellier was not a mother-woman.”

Trapped in a marriage with kids is NOT always the ideal lifestyle for every woman. But during times like these, there was no consideration regarding a woman’s opinion let alone one's mental health. It was completely reliant on social roles. Living with depression myself and having endured many scary episodes of darkness, I could strongly relate to Edna’s suffering. It consumed her. Being dissatisfied with life no matter what, fighting unstable emotions, struggling with the awakening of inappropriate desires, the feeling of being trapped, and even the bitterness toward life in general and humanity as a whole.

It goes on and on:

"When life appeared to her like a grotesque pandemonium and humanity like worms struggling blindly toward inevitable annihilation."

“At a very early period she had apprehended instinctively the dual life—that outward existence which conforms, the inward life which questions.”

Despite the inevitably strong depressive undertones, the story was actually quite poetic and philosophical in the most beautiful way.

Quotes that prove as such:

“The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation. The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.”

“The stillest hour of the night had come, the hour before dawn, when the world seems to hold its breath.”

I give it five stars because it really stirred up some old memories and emotions for me.

Ainda tenho que assentar ideas quanto à classificação....

P. S. Não poderia ser outra coisa que 5 estrelas.

Often I have witnessed women, who proceed to talk about misogyny, sexism, or state their views on a piece of feminist literature, starting their discourse with something along the lines of 'I'm not much of a feminist...but'. As if it is best to put a considerable distance between themselves and this feared word at the onset and deny any possible links whatsoever. As if calling herself a feminist automatically degrades a woman to the position of a venom-spewing, uncouth, unfeminine, violent creature from hell whose predilections include despising all males on the planet with a passion and shouting from the rooftops about women's rights at the first opportunity.

Attention ladies and gentlemen! Feminism is not so cool anymore, at least not in the way it was in the 80s or 90s.

Don't ask what set off that particular rant but yes I suppose the numerous 1-star reviews of this one could have been a likely trigger.

So Edna's story gets a 1 star because she is a 'selfish bitch' who falls in love with another man who is not her husband, doesn't sacrifice her life for her children and feels the stirrings of sexual attraction for someone she doesn't love in a romantic way. Edna gets a 1 star because she dares to put herself as an individual first before her gender specific roles as wife and mother.

But so many other New Adult and erotica novels (IF one can be generous enough to call them 'novels' for lack of a more suitable alternative term) virtually brimming with sexism, misogyny and chock full of all the obnoxious stereotypes that reinforce society's stunted, retrogressive view of the relationship dynamics between a man and woman, get 5 glorious stars from innumerable reviewers (majority of whom are women) on this site.

This makes me lose my faith in humanity and women in particular.

Edna Pontellier acknowledges her awakening and her urge to break away from compulsions imposed on her by society. She embraces her 'deviance' and tries to come to terms with this new knowledge of her own self. She desires to go through the entire gamut of human actions and emotions, regardless of how 'morally' ambiguous, unjustified or self-centered each one of them maybe.

And isn't THAT the whole point of this feminism business?

n  "Feminism is the radical notion that women are people." - Rebecca Westn

A woman needs to be recognized and accepted as a human being first - imperfect, flawed, egocentric, and possibly even as a bad mother and an irresponsible wife, just like the way society accepts a bad husband as a bad husband, a bad father as a bad father and moves on after uttering a few words of negative criticism. Somehow being a bad father is reasonably acceptable, but being a bad mother constitutes a sacrilegious act.

Edna's husband is equally responsible for abandoning their children as she is. He limits his role as a father to performing minor tasks like buying them bonbons, peanuts and gifts and lecturing his wife on how they should be raised without bothering to shoulder some of her burden. As if the task of raising children requires the sole expertise of the mother and the father can nonchalantly evade all responsibility while maintaining a lingering presence in their lives.

I have seen readers being empathetic to unfaithful fictional husbands and their existential dilemmas (case in point being Tomas and Franz in 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' which I am currently reading) and even trying to rationalize their incapability of staying in monogamous relationships. But oh heaven forbid if it's a woman in the place of a man! Women are denied entrance into the world of infidelity or casual sex (and in the rare case that they are allowed, they are given labels like 'slut', 'whore', 'tart' and so on). They need to be absolute models of perfection without fail - angelic, compassionate, thoughtful, always subservient, forever ready to be at your service as a good mother and a good wife and languish in a perpetual state of self-denial with that forced sweet smile stuck on their faces. Double standards much?

Edna is a little flawed and, hence, very humane. Edna is in all of us. And her cold refusal to let societal norms decide the course of her life, reduce her to the state of mere mother and wife only makes her brave in my eyes.

Her suicide is but a loud 'fuck you' to the patriarchal system. And I can only salute her for her act of defiance.

Chopin was alienated for writing this. She was a pariah. The book was burned, it was taboo, it was sin.
Chopin published it anyway. She was a widow, with children, and her options for making money were limited. She tried her hand at writing.

And she failed. And in her failure, a depression rose that according to some, killed her.
But now, as is often the case, the story is taught in schools, is referenced in literature, is revered– but just as often, it is still hated.

I love a polarizing read!

The Awakening contains:
Brave depictions of female sexuality & desire (in 1899!!!)

A journey to self discovery and defying social norms and gender roles.

Lush, melancholy and sensuous descriptions of Southern Louisiana! — I’ve never considered visiting, but reading this story has sparked a desire in me to take a little coastal Louisiana road trip.

The Awakening begins with glimmers of marital distaste:

"He reproached his wife with her inattention, her habitual neglect of the children. If it was not a mother’s place to look after children, whose on earth was it? He himself had his hands full with his brokerage business. He could not be in two places at once; making a living for his family on the street, and staying at home to see that no harm befell them. He talked in a monotonous, insistent way."

With moments like these, it is easy to see why Edna Pontellier and her husband are not happily married.

“She’s got some sort of notion in her head concerning the eternal rights of women; and-you understand-we meet in the morning at the breakfast table.”

The thing you must keep in mind while reading this is that it was published in 1899. 1899!

Divorce was not feasible then. Infidelity was a different beast then than it is now.

I did some research, because what is a reader without diving down deep rabbit holes and learning obscure facts about far flung topics.

At the time, Louisiana was predominantly Catholic. According to the catechisms, divorce is a sin that defies the natural order. At that time, divorce was so rare that it was almost myth. If someone did obtain a divorce, they would not be able to remarry under the catholic church.

And even if divorce was obtained, what was a woman to do? She would likely be shunned by society. Prostitution is an option, but that leads to even more shame. Would she be able to even see her children? Her children would be social pariahs, born of a woman that had both disavowed social norms and taken up with what would easily be perceived as unforgivable sin.

Women had few options.

Marriage was hardly a choice. You must marry, and for the most part, you married young. Before you really knew the world, before you really knew yourself. This is what happens to Edna Pontellier.

Chopin herself recognizes this when she writes:

"The trouble is,” sighed the Doctor, grasping her meaning intuitively, “that youth is given up to illusions. It seems to be a provision of Nature; a decoy to secure mothers for the race. And Nature takes no account of moral consequences, of arbitrary conditions which we create, and which we feel obliged to maintain at any cost.”

The entire novel is about the social, religious and moral shackles that society had placed on women. Edna turns twenty eight during the course of this novel. She finds herself questioning everything, her role, her dissatisfaction with her marriage, her guilt over not enjoying motherhoods responsibilities, her desire to be alone, to be free— to have her own life, her own desires, her own ambitions, outside of motherhood and being a housewife.

"She thought of Leonce and the children. They were a part of her life. But they need not have thought that they could possess her, body and soul."

The desire to be alone, to forge your own path, is an important theme in the Awakening. Edna struggles to reconcile this desire with her identity as a mother and wife, but ultimately, her true inner self becomes her guiding force. She does what she wants, when she wants. She loves who she loves.

"Why,” went on Edna, clasping her knees and looking up into Mademoiselle’s twisted face, “do you suppose a woman knows why she loves? Does she select? Does she say to herself: ‘Go to! Here is a distinguished statesman with presidential possibilities; I shall proceed to fall in love with him.’ Or, ‘I shall set my heart upon this musician, whose fame is on every tongue?’ Or, ‘This financier, who controls the world’s money markets?’

But no sojourn for self discovery is free of mistakes... and bad decisions.

Edna makes a lot of mistakes. She falls helplessly in love with a man she is not married to. A man that deserts her, because goodness do the men think they can make all the decisions for Edna. Even Robert does not grant Edna the opportunity for agency.

Then comes Alcee Arobin, a man that Edna feels lust for, but not love.

Bodily Autonomy is a theme here as well, with Edna finding her way towards making decisions with her body. She is able to take agency over her body and fate, and escape the oppression that hounded her.

The other thing to keep in mind while reading this is that: Chopin is not writing any of these characters to divine sympathy. I don't feel we are supposed to be sympathetic to any of them. I've seen a lot of reviews complaining about how selfish and unlikable Edna is. FINE, but an unlikeable narrator does not make an unlikeable story. Perhaps we should despise the social systems that cause women like Edna to have been placed in these positions. And while we are at it, Edna's decision in the end seems rather selfless to me. It saves her children from scandal, and provides the illusion that it could have been accidental. Is this choice a kindness, or is it an injury? I don't know. Chopin gives us morally grey characters and situations to ponder over.

It is not surprising that this book was reviled in 1899. It was everything that Catholic Louisiana society hated: Scandal, female agency, brazen descriptions of a woman's sexuality. And it is no wonder it is still despised by some today: A woman who shows little love towards her children is hard to stomach. But I ask, where is the same hatred towards her husband? Because he often neglects his family as well. He treats them as something to be possessed. Not something to be loved.

I love literature like this. For me, The Awakening stands with Charlotte Perkins Gilman's novella The Yellow Wall-paper and Other Stories, and Shirley Jackson's novel The Haunting of Hill House. It is another example of great literature with feminist leanings, but it also speaks of madness: Is Edna mad because she doesn't conform to society? Or if society mad for shackling her to oppressive expectations? Does her society cause her to become mad? OR, is she saner then she ever was?

Another classic I missed in school down! ✅
Though, I have to admit, I don’t think I would have enjoyed or appreciated this as a sophomore in high school. Sometimes, missing out on a book for a time is a small mercy.

Why so many ugly one star reviews? All about as insightful as the ubiquitous one star reviews of Lolita which call Nabokov the man a child molester, raving morons who can't distinguish a character from an author and go beyond simply missing the point. And how ironic that all these reviews seem to be from women raging that this book (which they all obviously read for their 'gender theory' class) features a character who abandons her children. Ugh, women who criticize this as a feminist novel because the main character isn't a good mom and then base their ratings solely on how much they like the main character. Do these people only give high ratings to books with characters they like? Do they think women characters in fictional books shouldn't have flaws, ennui, and basically everything that makes a character good? They want the character to be human but lack any flaws, they want her to be a feminist hero but denounce her for not putting her children before herself. Is it that they would have accepted it in a male character but not from a 'wife and mother' because when I read these reviews that is what it looks like to me. Why is she in all those one star reviews held up and judged as a woman and not a human being? Is that not the essence of feminism? If so these dumb broads are the ones who are anti-woman, not Chopin, who wrote this in 1899 for fuck sake!

The whole point of the book is about her discovering herself as an individual, and that even as an individual we exist in a society and as humans have to balance being an individual with the fact we are social animals. Her failure isn't that she abandoned the children but that she abandons herself. If this has a failure as a feminist novel it is the formulaic ending where she is punished for her desires. I'd like to see a story when the woman runs away and is not punished by death, as is the always the ending, now that would be progress!

Not that it's a great book, my few friends who rated it gave in mostly 3 stars, and that's about right, I'm adding an extra star out of spite.

Also, this is my first book read on my new kindle, so that was pretty exciting!

Scandalous for 1899, The Awakening is a study in 19th century, white, upper class, creole femininity. In an era when divorce was extremely rare and respectable married women “knew their place,” Chopin’s open depiction of an unfaithful wife exploring her sexuality got her effectively blacklisted. She never wrote another novel and, hereafter, had trouble getting her short stories published.

I really wanted to like this more than I did. It took Chopin roughly twenty chapters to set the stage for Edna’s “awakening.” By the time things really started to take shape I was almost ready to throw in the towel.

Look, I get it. This novel is undoubtedly groundbreaking and historically significant, but I found the characters unlikable, the premise overwrought and the perspective off-puttingly upper crust and beau monde.

Reread this for uni. The prof who’s doing this is going to be focusing on Chopin’s exceptional yet flawed feminism in this book (although this was published in what can be called the pre-feminism era). No doubt there was the need to democratize feminism and look at the oppression of women who weren’t white, middle-class, and heterosexual. Woman and the female subjectivity are not monoliths and neither is patriarchy. As much as I agree with that – and I do, vehemently – I also still believe that this is a beautiful book. It left me awestruck the last time I read it and this time too. That it presents a very normative and limited rebellion, so to say, is something to acknowledge but it does not completely detract from its power. It remains a read as seductive as the motif of sea that’s brought to life within its pages.

For starters, I did not enjoy this story, and I did not see why Edna's life was utterly miserable. I didn't care about her, really. And her plight didn't speak to me at all.

Everything is subjective, however, Edna has many more options and choices than some women ever have. More than anything she has safety and the ability to protect herself and her children. That in itself is more than many women have, even today. I can understand feeling restricted, but I think Edna was a very selfish woman. If anything, she should have thought of her children. I am not here to say that women don't have existences outside of their marriages, their children. I disagree strongly with that. But a woman has a choice to make. When she brings children into the world, it changes the decisions that she can make. She can be happy and she can have joy, but she has to make sure that her children are loved and cared for.

Edna was a pampered woman with an indulgent husband, and she had the means to go on a nice vacation every year. She had servants, and friends. A lot of women don't even have those things, but manage to get up out of bed everyday and live their lives. Yes, she felt that she was denying her inner self, and had to marry, although maybe she didn't want to. I cannot deny that must have caused some emotional angst, but there is no either/or. There is: Okay this is what I have, let's see what I can do with it. Make the best of what you have.

Edna continually made bad choices. She made a mistake and had an extramarital affair. Not the end of the world. I believe her husband would have forgiven her. Or she could have even lived apart from him and hopefully still be a mother to her children. (Maybe I'm being naive about this for the time period, maybe not). She could have stayed with her husband and had a friendship marriage with no physical involvement and painted. Even carried on her affairs as long as she was discreet. She had some choices. A lot of women, a lot of people don't. I just didn't buy the option that she took. I think she was a drama queen. Sorry, I just didn't have much sympathy for this woman.


I can see how this must have been an important work at the time it was written. However, it fails to speak to me of female empowerment in a world that allows women less power, choices, and equality. My rating is based moreso on this novella's failure to demonstrate what it set out to accomplish than my dislike of the story. I would read more Chopin, and I intend to do so.

Awakening to a sense of the injustices within which one lives can be a dangerous thing. For Edna Pontellier, a young woman living in 19th-century Louisiana, her awakening to a truer sense of her place within society is both liberating and perilous, as Kate Chopin chronicles in her once-controversial and now-revered 1899 novel The Awakening.

Chopin’s life experiences may have taught her what the women protagonists of many of her fictional works come to learn – that a woman cannot depend on a man, any man, to “shelter” or “protect” her: she must be able to use her own intellectual strengths and moral resources to fend for herself. Chopin’s father and husband both died young, and her husband left Chopin with several children to raise. Her short stories are characterized by a “local colour” sensibility, a Guy de Maupassant-style gift for twist endings, and a thoughtful consideration of the dilemmas faced by women in a male-dominated society. The Awakening takes those elements of Chopin’s short stories and builds upon them in a resonant and powerful manner.

The Awakening begins in Grand Isle, Louisiana – a coastal town that serves as a beach-resort community for New Orleanians. Edna Pontellier is vacationing with her family at Grand Isle; and when her husband Leonce, a successful N.O. businessman, sees her coming back from a walk, the reader gets their first sense that there may be trouble in paradise. Leonce disapprovingly tells Edna that “You are burnt beyond recognition,” and the narrator adds that Leonce is “looking at his wife as one looks at a valuable piece of personal property which has suffered some damage” (p. 2). The theme of women being looked at as reflections of the men in their lives – rather than as, oh, I don’t know, people – is emphasized from the novel’s beginnings.

Edna, a Kentuckian and a bit of an outsider in the Louisiana Creole society into which she has married, finds herself observing that she is not like the “mother-women” of Grand Isle, observing that “They were women who idolized their children, worshipped their husbands, and esteemed it a holy privilege to efface themselves as individuals and grow wings as ministering angels” (p. 6). While Edna’s friend Madame Ratignolle goes on and on about the joys and pains of being pregnant, Edna is “beginning to realize her position in the universe as a human being, and to recognize her relations as an individual to the world within and about her” (p. 10). These reflections, in a way, have always been part of her nature; she recalls that “At a very early period she had apprehended instinctively the dual life – that outward existence which conforms, the inward life which questions” (p. 11).

She recalls a childhood walk through a vast green meadow in her region of Kentucky, and tells Madame Ratignolle that “sometimes I feel this summer as if I were walking through the green meadow again – idly, aimlessly, unthinking and unguided” (p. 13). That feeling of moving while not being quite sure where she is going perhaps applies also to her friendship with Robert Lebrun, a young man who is one of the sons of the proprietor of the resort community where the Pontelliers are staying. Edna takes to the habit of spending evenings out with Robert. At one point, Robert sits quietly next to Edna while she lies back in a hammock. “No multitude of words,” the narrator states, “could have been more significant than those moments of silence, or more pregnant with the first-felt throbbings of desire” (p. 23).

Edna subsequently stays at Grand Isle when Leonce heads back to New Orleans on business. Madame Ratignolle seems to sense that there is a danger that Edna might have trouble getting with the proverbial program, and tries to remind Edna of a woman’s duties as wife and mother. In response, Edna says that “I would give up the unessential; I would give my money, I would give my life for my children; but I wouldn’t give myself” (p. 37). Madame Ratignolle does not understand.

Once the whole family is back in New Orleans, at the Pontelliers’ lovely home on Esplanade Street, Edna begins manifesting more signs that her awakening has caused her to begin questioning the unspoken norms of her society. She stops receiving callers on Tuesday, her traditional reception day. Leonce is displeased by these developments, and wonders if Edna might be suffering from some sort of mental illness. “He could see plainly that she was not herself. That is, he could not see that she was becoming herself and daily casting aside that fictitious self which we assume like a garment with which to appear before the world” (p. 44).

In the city, Edna begins seeking out the company of Mademoiselle Reisz, an acquaintance from Grand Isle who stands out among her contemporaries in a number of ways. She has never sought to marry, she focuses on her considerable musical talent, and she disregards her appearance as freely as she dispenses with the mannerly social conventions of her time. Edna wishes to paint as she once did, and Mademoiselle Reisz cautions her regarding the artist’s path:

“Painting!” laughed Edna. “I am becoming an artist. Think of it!”

“Ah! an artist! You have pretensions, Madame.”

“Why pretensions? Do you think I could not become an artist?”

“I do not know you well enough to say. I do not know your talent or your temperament. To be an artist includes much; one must possess many gifts – absolute gifts – which have not been acquired by one’s own effort. And, moreover, to succeed, the artist must possess the courageous soul.”

“What do you mean by the courageous soul?”

“Courageous, ma foi! The brave soul. The soul that dares and defies.” (p. 49)

In Mademoiselle Reisz, Edna has found, amidst that world of polite untruths and elegantly phrased lies, a friend who will speak the truth.

Edna relocates to an artist’s atelier around the corner from the Esplanade Street home; Leonce arranges for extensive remodeling of the home, to save appearances, and the children are with the grandparents upstate. Alcee Arobin, a Creole gallant with a scandalous reputation, insinuates himself into Edna’s company in Leonce’s absence, makes himself part of her social circle, and seeks to practice his charm upon Edna.

When he eventually does manage to kiss Edna one evening, Edna finds that “It was the first kiss of her life to which her nature had really responded. It was a flaming torch that kindled desire” (p. 64). One can see why some readers of Chopin’s time responded so negatively to The Awakening; the very idea of acknowledging that a woman can feel sexual desire, and that the desire that a woman feels might not be for her husband, no doubt scandalized many.

And those scandalized readers might have been even further scandalized at Edna’s reflections that “among the conflicting emotions which assailed her, there was neither shame nor remorse. There was a dull pang of regret because it was not the kiss of love that had inflamed her, because it was not love which had held this cup of life to her lips” (p. 65). She is not a “fallen woman” craving the chance to crawl back to her husband; rather, she wanted that first moment of passion to be directed toward Robert, the man that she has found she truly loves.

Robert, who had left for Mexico, on business, rather suddenly, returns from Mexico and accidentally encounters Edna, and it’s clear to Edna that he’s been avoiding her. Their acquaintance is renewed, at first on a somewhat awkward basis – but it becomes clear that the two have strong feelings toward one another.

A crisis of the story occurs when Madame Ratignolle calls Edna to her bedside for the birth of the child. Edna witnesses the difficulties and travails of the birth; and once the baby has been born, Madame Ratignolle begs Edna to “think of the children!” It is clear that Madame Ratignolle is aware of Edna’s awakening, and is determined to recall Edna to a sense of her duties.

The kindly old Doctor Mandelet, who attended at Madame Ratignolle’s delivery of the new child, sees and resents the emotional manipulation in which Madame Ratignolle was engaged. He sees, moreover, that what Madame Ratignolle did is but a symptom of a larger problem – the society’s subjugation of women. He tells Edna that “Youth is given up to illusions. It seems to be a provision of Nature, a decoy to secure mothers for the race” (p. 86). And he might have added that where Nature leaves off, Society takes over, with all sorts of restraints and restrictions aimed at keeping women in “their place” as wives for their husbands and mothers for the race – the “mother-women” that Edna remarked at Grand Isle.

Edna tells the doctor that “The years that are gone seem like dreams – if one might go on sleeping and dreaming – but to wake up and find – oh! well! perhaps it is better to wake up after all, even to suffer, rather than to remain a dupe to illusions all one’s life” (pp. 86-87). Her reflections on the high cost of awakening from comfortable illusions to bitter truths made me think of the Allegory of the Cave from Plato’s Republic.

The Doctor asks her to confide in him, assuring her that he will understand without judging: “We will talk of things you never have dreamt of talking about before. It will do us both good. I don’t want you to blame yourself, whatever comes” (p. 87). In a book filled with men who see a woman as an ornament of one’s business and social success, or as a flirty friend for beach-side companionship, or as a potential target for seduction, Doctor Mandelet is unique, reaching across the lines of gender to express concern regarding what a woman thinks and feels as a person.

But as Edna’s relationship with Robert takes a sudden and unexpected turn, and as she makes an off-season return to the Grand Isle locale of the novel’s beginnings, a seemingly routine passage of description from an early chapter of the book takes on new and potentially menacing significance:

The voice of the sea is seductive – never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation. The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace. (p. 10)

Kate Chopin paid a high price for writing and publishing The Awakening. Once-close friends in Saint Louis shunned her, ostracized her, crossed the street to avoid her. Such is part of the price, I suppose, of telling difficult truths that one’s society is not yet ready to hear. But more than 100 years after its publication, The Awakening continues to provide a ringing affirmation of a woman’s right to independent personhood, and a thundering denunciation of those who – now, as then – would take away women’s rights in the name of “family” and “tradition.”

…‘there was nothing subtle or hidden about her charms; her beauty was all there, flaming and apparent…’

Another book that I had heard so much about and finally got around to reading. This is a really unusual story. Not much happens, but it is exceptionally captivating and I can see why it always features on all the “Must Read Before You Die Lists” and Top 100s... Chopin’s best known work is a deeply insightful dive into a young woman’s restlessness and disquietude in her marriage. Meet Mrs. Pontellier – She has no specific reason to be unhappy; she may not be head over heels in love, but her husband is reasonable, they are financially secure and she has two healthy sons. She is young and pretty and enjoys holidays at the beach with friends. Her time is her own. She seemingly wants for nothing. So why is she so miserable? Good question. It is the same question we could ask Madam Bovary…if she hadn’t ended her life too soon.

Boredom. I am convinced these women are just plain bored. So, they look for entertainment. Something to make them feel something. They want something wrong. Something that is outside of their mundane, predictable, stifling lives. Something that shocks them to sensation. Rather than numbing their pain or settling their restlessness, they want to feel. Mrs Pontellier ‘grew fond of her husband, realizing with some unaccountable satisfaction that no trace of passion or excessive and fictitious warmth colored her affection, thereby threatening its dissolution. She was fond of her children in an uneven, impulsive way. She would sometimes gather them passionately to her heart; she would sometimes forget them…’ It still makes me aghast, it's one thing to leave your husband, but what mother can walk away from her own children?

Our protagonist, ‘was not a woman given to confidences, a characteristic hitherto contrary to her nature. Even as a child she had lived her own small life all within herself. At a very early period she had apprehended instinctively the dual life—that outward existence which conforms, the inward life which questions…’ It is this wrestle with her conflicting realities that ultimately leads not to Mrs Pontellier’s liberation, but to a further narrowing of her existence. As she shakes off her domesticity, rebukes society's expectations and dogmas, she also condemns herself to misery – as she comes to rely on the pursuit of the love of a younger man. ‘She reminded him of some beautiful, sleek animal waking up in the sun…’ But admiration is one thing. A commitment to love is another. I'm not particularly sympathetic to Mrs P, was she really that repressed, or did she get bored, make her bed and then was forced to lie unwillingly in it?

Chopin’s writing is very elegant – feminine I would say, she ‘began to feel like one who awakens gradually out of a dream, a delicious, grotesque, impossible dream, to feel again the realities pressing into her soul. The physical need for sleep began to overtake her; the exuberance which had sustained and exalted her spirit left her helpless and yielding to the conditions which crowded her in. The stillest hour of the night had come, the hour before dawn, when the world seems to hold its breath. The moon hung low, and had turned from silver to copper in the sleeping sky. The old owl no longer hooted, and the water-oaks had ceased to moan as they bent their heads…’

Along the same lines as Madam Bovary, though not as ‘dark’ and bleak in atmosphere, this is definitely one of those must read ‘must reads.’

Sea, sun, bathing and loose summer rules form a recipe for a respite. Warm and welcoming environment, shaped by people with different predispositions gathered under the same soothing conditions, lighten the protagonist's manners. Her senses, before entangled beyond recognition, suddenly soften and let the melodies, smells and shapes in. Adjustments within her, long having been guided by society's calls, now slowly, but steadily, change course. In awakening to the stimulants and novelties the protagonist quietly, but firmly, demands her right to feel her own feelings.
If in the works of similar stature the nuances of emotions are often but subtly implied and hidden behind the excessive behavior, they are here stated openly and affectionately. Although we are given free access to her thoughts, it is with less spectacle than any implication could leave us to imagine. It's a silent, straightforward strength; she doesn't lose herself in a love affair, but gains vigor from it. Similarly, her decline is more connected with a realization of the eternal gap between human nature and natural laws than it is with love itself. When summer ends, autumn comes and interrupts the immediacy of her bond with nature. Being enclosed between the walls of human invention, she knows no way out, for her awaking progresses linearly and is not attuned with the nature's cyclic seasons.